Kamen 22
by SterileTelevision
Summary: Hiruma doesn't want girls on his team, but this girl won't take no for an answer! Can Hiruma withstand such an overbearing evil greater than his own? Or is this just hormones talking? Rated for language, but that may change...
1. Fcking Bitch

Kamen 22

By: Eriob34-chan!

Chapter 1

The colorful flashing lights and clinking of the arcade and casino games in the Devil Bats clubroom seemed nonexistent as the room was at a stand still. All the star players, including the 'hugo-ing' apprentice and the fucking manager, aligned side-by-side, each member of the lot dawning a look of shock or vacancy; except the devil's spawn, the ringleader, the captain of the Deimon Devil Bats, Hiruma Youichi; his booming laughter quaking walls as it resonated.

"And what are you laughing at!?" the apparent cause of the laughter questioned dangerously, throwing its hands into the air exasperatedly.

Hiruma pulled out a machine gun, from only god knows where, locking on his target, preparing for a clean shot. "Because no fucking bitches are joining my team, you moronic bitch!" he cackled, wrapping his pale, rawboned finger snuggly around the trigger. "You've until the count of five to get out of sight before I light up your ass, bitch." Said 'bitch', as the demonic blond would put it, stood unresponsive. Hiruma glowered at the defiance displayed by that fucking bitch, but proceeded to count anyway.

"One…" he hissed, and in doing so, brought his surround teammates out of their stupor. Realizing the situation, there was a wave of panic.

"Hiruma-baka! STOP!"

"Ya can't do this, Senpai!"

"… Two…"

"Hiruma-san!"

"Hiruma!"

The quarterback gritted his teeth. Those fucking brats were starting to get on this nerves with all this "_Hiruma! Hiruma! Hiruma!_". "You fucking brats aren't swaying my decision in the least bit. Besides, it's this Bitch's choice not to heed my warning." He growled over the pandemonium. "Now, _shut the shit up or I'll shove a grenade down your throats!" _ Everyone visibly stiffened, including the fucking manager. There's no way you can fight a grenade with a broom or mop. Even a vacuum couldn't withstand such an onslaught of explosive power.

Once silencing those brats, Hiruma turned back to his target, who still seem unaffected by such a threat. Hiruma grunted out another number. "…Three…"

No budge.

"…Four…"

In a last, desperate, and probably futile attempt to save the fellow "bitch", Mamori rose to her feet and cried out, grabbing the Captain by the wrist in hopes he'd drop the firearm. But alas, like anyone could predict, such meager attempts were futile.

RATATATATATATATATATATATATATATAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Bullets were rapidly fired, cracking and flashing. Some seldom ricocheted against slot machines, lockers, and pachinko machines. The others, wanting protect their own lives, took refuge under the pool/meeting table. Mamori instinctly reached out towards Sena, hugging him to her blazer covered bosom protectively. Just because she couldn't save the sinister blond's victim doesn't mean she could save her little Sena-kun.

The mixed-breed manager roared over the ear-shattering noise. "HIRUMA-KUN! ARE YOU CRAZY!?!"

The demonic captain cackled imperiously. "YES I AM, FUCKING MANAGER!!!" He attempted to kick away the motherly brunette that was inching closer to him. Shit, setting off his guns always excited him. He'll be damned if he let the fucking manager get in his way.

With that last thought, much to Hiruma's dismay, he had completely exhausted the loaded bullets of his firearm, rings of smoke and gunpowder dissipating gradually. He wiped the thin layer perspiration from his brow, lowering his weapon. "Tee hee. That was fun."

Monta's was suddenly enraged by his senpai's mocking giggles, and that he just shot down a fellow first-year, but first and foremost, a _girl!_

"Ya ruthful bastard!" the furious wide receiver jumped on the table, yanking the collar of the once giggling demon. Hiruma was annoyed by this, but didn't take the faulty grammared monkey seriously. "Ya killed Yuushisami-sa-eh?"

The last of the smoke cleared to reveal the absents of a bloody corpse belonging to this Yuushisami person. In fact, the was nothing except damaged and redamaged property.

The others were speechless as there nearly stopped hearts flooded with content. The only semi-intelligent thing Monta could stammer was, "S-she invaded it!", which was obvious, if you correct his bad speech with 'evade' instead of 'invade'. This was Monta after all. Blunt statements like these were only of semi-intelligent level.

But that was Monta, and Monta only. Hiruma, on the other hand, wanted to backslap the fucking monkey for his idiocy, and the fact that he was still clawing his collared shirt. "No shit she moved! Now get the fuck off, fucking monkey!" Hiruma was even more peeved that he missed his target. He NEVER misses, so this was a bit of an ego shocker for him.

"Wow, she's fast…" the mock secretary commented to himself, however, the jolly giant lineman overheard his musings.

"Yeah! Almost like you Se-mmph!" Hiruma deftly slapped a hand over Kurita's equally giant mouth. "Fucking Fatass. Learn to control your tongue." He sneered as the chestnut-headed lineman tensed when he realized the error of his way.

"I-In any case, we should find Yuushisami-san! M-make sure she isn't hurt or anything!" Sena interjected, changing the subject to keep Mamori's suspicions at bay. The others agreed soundly, rising from their places at the pool/meeting table to search for said Yuushisami-san. All save for the captain, of course.

"No bitches are joining my team." Hiruma grumbled indignantly to himself. He threw his legs atop the table, crossed, and unwrapped the foil paper off a fresh stick of his own devil bat logoed gum. His sharp fangs chomped mercilessly on the innocent gum, letting out some steam. He reached under the table, pulling out a shotgun from a hidden compartment. Best to stay on guard with this crazed bitch on the loose.

A few seconds later, the feminist manager popped back into the room. "And why is that?!" she huffed. "I don't remember that being specified anywhere!"

Hiruma didn't even think the fucking manager caught that one. He could have sworn he made that comment forever ago. "Shut up fucking manager." He barked back. Hiruma has power. With a scribble of a pen and the threatening of a certain wussy principal, he could have _his_ rule become an official rule. For once, Mamori decided to end the confrontation at that instead of engaging in the usual battle of broom versus bullets, leaving the disarrayed room to return to the others, muttering something out the side of her mouth about 'bad influences on Sena'.

Hiruma seethed as he awaited for the brats to finish there dumb search. The idea of a girl on the team? He simply detested it! A female on the team would make the Devil Bats seem like desperate losers! (even though he sorely admitted that was once true before all the permanent new recruits.) How were they suppose to intimidate the other teams with a sensitive, prissy ball of fluff!? A girl on the team would seriously hurt their threat factor, not to mention the reputation Hiruma worked and connived so hard to build.

The Devil Bats' captain heaved a sigh. '_Let the fucking brats humor themselves_.' He thought bitterly. '_I can turn down any propositions they conjure up later…._' He stretched an arm out for his laptop. Finding he couldn't easily reach the briefcase that was a ways down the table he shifted his seating, using the length of his arm and torso to extend his reach when an oddly cold and sharp wedge pressed against his Adam's Apple. A single bead of sweat trailed down his temple as an unnerving smirk played on his lips.

"Damn, you're good." He gritted out, annoyed with himself for getting lost in thought.

"I'm glad you think so, Hiruma-sama." A voice purred lowly in his ear. Had he really gotten that lost in his thoughts to lower his guard THIS much! He didn't even notice he presence in the least bit!

The blond gulped silently at the sharp wedge pressed somewhat gently against his throat. "It's a switchblade, isn't it?" he questioned his captor, half amused.

Said captor squealed in delight. "Ooo! Very Good!" the voice cooed girlishly, tapping the weapon shy of his throat against the bottom of his jaw. He already knew who his captor was. God, this bitch was deranged.

He popped a bubble of his now tasteless gum. "Hey fucking brats. I'm a hostage." He droned loudly, sure that the others didn't leave the vicinity.

They all came bustling in, not really worried about their captain's safety, but just wanting to see if this embodiment of evil was really at the mercy of someone possibly more evil. They really didn't believe the notorious bullshitter, but when they saw exactly what was going on, they sort of gasped from shock and slight amusement.

"Eh? When did Yuushisami-san get in here?" Monta blurted out in befuddlement. "We search the whole clubroom!"

She rested her head atop the demonic captain's spiky blond mop. Hiruma let out a small growl of detest. "I never left the room."

They a nodded in agreement. A logical explanation… then it dawned on them.

"EHHH?!"

She pointed a single finger to the ceiling. "I would have gotten shot if I took the time to open the door." She chirped. Everyone, including Hiruma (as best as he could) craned their necks back, gazing at the ceiling, but not really sure what to look for. All they saw was the usual ruin.

Hiruma looked once more, chuckling to himself upon noticing the difference. "Ke ke ke… footprints…"

There was a round of gasps at Hiruma's observation. Surely the bullshitter jest? Right? Eyes locked on Yuushisami for conformation, but she simply beamed a smile. They looked to the ceiling again…

"Oh my god! They're really there!"

"Fast!"

"Spiderman-MAX!"

"Hirumaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!" the large lineman bellowed happily. "let her join the teeeeeeeeam!!"

"Yeah, yeah!" she petted the blond like her little pet wrapped around her finger. "Pleeeease?"

"Fuck no." Hiruma spat. She huffed, tapping the bladed instrument against his bottom jaw once more.

"Remember who has the upper hand."

Hiruma scoffed haughtily. "Not like you'd kill me." he smirked broadly, waving his book of threats, the devil's handbook, before everyone as if making a statement. Yuushisami just looked at the leather-bound notebook ignorantly. Instead she chose to ignore it. Why worry about something you have no knowledge of?

Her eyes narrowed to sinister slits of amusement. "Of course not." she responded, her voice sounding like lethal velvet. Her bluntness added to the piling killer intent that threatened to suffocate everyone in the room (the resounding gulps of needed oxygen affirming that.). She pressed the switchblade to his throat once more, this time breaking flesh. "Maybe I'll carve you up nicely and drink your spilled blood ravenously…" she made a quick flick of her tongue across the open wound on Hiruma's neck. "Ne, Hiruma-sama?" her voice grew grimmer, if possible.

Another round of gulps filled the room, the others, excluding Mamori, sweating buckets in fear. The captain never actually hurt any of the players (with his guns at least), but the girl… is it possible she was worse than the captain? What a dreadful thought.

Hiruma took mental note of his team's reactions, not to mention his own. The little lump of coal in his chest one may call a heart was beating erratically. Cold chills coursed through his spine and alleged nerves of steel as the hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end.

Hiruma was thrilled beyond compare.

And the best tactic in American football was to scare the living shit out of you opponents, right?

"KU KU KU!" his laughter was booming, yet hollow and dry sounding. Some how, Hiruma was a little bemused about this, but he felt like… conducting an experiment. "FUCKING MANAGER! Prepare for a proper interview for the fucking bitch!"

Some how, during all this terror induced tension, the fucking bitch managed to do something even the quarterback couldn't do.

"A-ano, Hiruma-san, b-but Mamori-nee f-fainted."

Yuushisami was a whole new level of evil.


	2. Like the Sweet Sounds of Screeching Cats

Kamen 22

By: Eriob34-sama

Chapter 2

Roughly an hour had passed before everyone had regain composure and Mamori conciseness. Now they were back in their proper seating arrangements, ready to begin the interview the captain sprung out of nowhere. The Devil Bat Chibis, along with Kurita, were aggressively drinking water to make up for that lost in sweat.

"Start with an introduction, fucking bitch." Hiruma commanded.

"Okay!" her voice bubbled. She grabbed the wooden stool and perched herself in front of the pool/meeting table. Her peculiar posture made it hard to decipher what type of player she may be based on looks alone.

She filled her lungs, taking a deep breath as if she might try to say everything in one rushed breath, "First off, my name is Yuushisami Akire! I'm the new transfer all the way from Florida-", however, she was interrupted mid- breath by the ever quizzical monkey.

"Where's Flor-i-da?"

Hiruma pinched the bridge of his nose to somewhat soothe his rising frustration. "Will someone PLEASE teach this fucking monkey geography?"

Akire frowned at the ignorant Monta for cutting off her flow. "… How can you _not_ know the _United States_, but take part in _American_ Football?"

Monta looked around him, his friends starting back at him apologetically. His thick brows furrowed as he flushed angrily. "Grrr! Just continue!"

"Anyway… I'm sixteen; Born December 26-" But unfortunately she was disrupted once again, this time by the mixed-breed manager.

"That's just after Sena's birthday!" Mamori squeaked. Akire was really becoming aggravated by all these interruptions.

"I'M-" she articulated obnoxiously to being the attention back to her. "-part Brazilian and Puerto Rican, and half Japanese-"

"Great, another 'mutt' Japanese…" the quarterback rolled his eyes.

"You better not be referring to me, Hiruma-kun." Mamori gritted through clenched teeth, reaching for the nearest cleaning tool.

"You want to go at it, fucking manager?" Said manager bolted up from her seat, getting up in the demon's face, armed with a green titanium broom. Hiruma shoved the barrel some random gun from his massive artillery under the enraged manager's nose. Electric sparks crackled between their eyes as they stared each other down grudgingly.

"HEY YOU BASTARDS!!!!" Everyone jolted up at the sudden outburst. "STUPID BITCH! GET AWAY FROM HIRUMA-SAMA!!!!!!" Akire roared. Saying Mamori was speechless would be the understatement of a lifetime. The brunette manager quickly scurried back to her seat fearfully, bowing and apologizing to everyone for her misconduct.

The blond quarterback smirked triumphantly, even though he would have liked to put the fucking manager in check with his own power. Having this fucking bitch on his side might prove useful…

Akire sighed contently, gracing her audience with another daisy-laced smile that now seemed cloy and eerie. She giggled to herself innocently.

"My favorite sport is football! Favorite colors: red, silver, and black! Favorite number: three! Favorite animal: dogs! Favorite food: poc-"

"Enough with the informalities, fucking bitch." The captain hissed. "I care nothing about your personal life." Oddly, she didn't snap at Hiruma for butting in like that. Instead, she chirped a "Roger!" and did some type of weird salute.

Hiruma's eyebrow rose in curiosity. _'That's interesting…'_

"So…" he tapped his gun boredly against his defined chin. "… Why the hell should I let you join my team?"

"'Cause I'm determined and I love the sport! And I play it really well!" she giggled again, this time more manically and daft. "And I'm scary!!!"

'_Hiiiee! She realizes this, and she does it anyway!?!' _Sena shirked inwardly, declaring to himself that he'd never want to run into this girl in an alley, dark or not.

"… And other than that, I guess the other reasons are informalities…" she shrugged, the faintest blush dotting her sun-kissed cheeks. Monta had been quiet for sometime, and after restoring his _'dishonor'_, as he might put it, he felt he could stand to ask another question. He raised his hand to get the floor.

"Yuushisami-san, what's up with them blades and wall climbing?"

"Fast!" Komusubi agreed gingerly with his single syllabled speech.

"Oh, _that_?" she sounded as if her voice held mock modesty. "I'm a Naruto fanatic or, as you rude Japanese people would put it, otaku!"

Monta grunted. "Hey! You're Japanese too!"

"Aa, but only half!" she retorted.

"Do you read Jump?" questioned the mock secretary.

"Ha ha! Of course brown-haired simpleton! What type of fan would I be if I didn't?!" Sena stared at her sternly, but his look only seemed to reflect off her shiny features as she continued yapping. "And upon fatefully making acquaintances with the renowned '_mangazine_' so many theatrical years ago, I went on a perilous endeavor and _willed _myself to be a _formidable shinobi!_" she hopped from the stool, clutching a fist vehemently. "But I haven't given up, for every shinobi, give or take, has his (her) day! And when it comes, I shall seize it by the horns!!!!!!!"

Now, after such a dramaturgic display of… whatever this crazy girl would call it, most everyone was looking as if trying to mask their bewilderment. Hiruma heaved a sigh of annoyance.

"She said after reading and enjoying the fucking magazine, she trained herself to be a ninja, even if it almost fucking killed her…" her droned monotonously. The other nodded in understanding, realizing that the captain probably coated his interpretation with his infamous wretched 'fucks'. Even after being somewhat insulted by the shameless girl, the mock secretary couldn't help but feel some kind of sympathy as he once attempted the same thing, hence this initial reason for wanting to attain his magnificent speed.

Monta was still a little dazed from the poetic cultural shock, shaking his head to clear its fogginess. "And what about the blade?"

Akire giggled her trademark giggle; cloy with a hint of daftness. "Snips-kun, you mean?" she held up the brown and black vinyl decorated switchblade once more.

_'She gave it a name?' _

"He's my favorite!" she singed giddily, soggy hearts of infinite love oozing out with her voice.

The same notion was running through everyone's mind, but no one dare to ask and find out the horrid truth, though they all knew it well as it etched slowly in the back of their minds. Unlike the others, Hiruma wasn't a spineless wimp. He was a gambler, a dare devil, and probably an illegal marksmen. There was nothing this… _girl _could throw at him that he couldn't handle.

"So I can assume you have more?" he raised a thin arched brow. There was a visible desperation on the faces of the others, in fear of hearing the cursed words that were surely going to stain her lips.

"Of course!" And with that, all hope was lost.

Akire gazed into the inner space, staring down nothing in particular. That or she was trying to stare down the atoms. "Not only do I gots Snips-kun, but I also gots shuriken and kunai, just like real shinobi! I also gots katanas, aikuchis, bokkens, chisakakatanas, chokutas, dotanukis, hachiwaras…" she trailed off in her rambling, unaware that she lost her audience as she counted on her fingers.

"That's one dagger-happy bitch." The blond quarterback grumbled.

The fucking monkey nodded berserkly. "She's like the girl version of Senpai, MAX!" Hiruma felt the need to strangle the fucking monkey. No way were he and that crazed bitch similar in any way. How could anyone compare him to such a deranged manifestation of feminine evil?

"… Uchigatanas, and wakizashis, but those are just the swords. I also gots…" Akire, still some how oblivious to everyone's lack of attention, continued to list as she began to recount on her idle digits.

"She's insane, but she does have some incredible speed…" the demonic blond had to admit, no matter how much it scorched his tongue. "It probably even rivals Eyeshield's…"

Even after all this insanity shown by this girl, the chestnut-headed lineman still wanted her on the team. "How about making her take a physical?" he suggested, some what hopeful.

"I only stated that the fucking bitch was fast, not that I'm warming up to the idea of her on my team."

Kurita pouted. "Aww, come on Hiruma! We can give her the 40 yard test along with the bench test!"

Hiruma cackled. "I can clearly see she's fast, but the bench test? She probably weaker than the fucking shrimp!" he laughed at the flippant idea.

Of course he was referring to Sena. _'Thanks Hiruma-san…' _

"… Then there's the spear point, needle point, spay point, the tanko knife, sheepfoot, wharncliffe, the ulu knife, and last, but certainly not least-"

"Fucking bitch." A stern voice snapped her out of her listing stupor. And she was almost finished! Who dared to interrupt her this time!?

"Go change." The voice came again, still sour. She bit her lip, suppressing an explosion of excitement when she realized those dastardly words poured from the lips of Hiruma-sama.

"Roger!" she saluted again, and in half a blink, she was gone, vanishing into the vacant locker room; her lingering enthusiasm still blatantly shimmering in her wake.

Hiruma was already dreading this, although it would be entertaining to see how far this… _girl's _determination would take her.

"… Too fucking hyper."

Everyone, including the powerful-go speaking Komusubi, wasted no time in agreeing firmly.


	3. Super Human

Kamen 22

By: Eriob34

Chapter 3

"Hey, fucking bitch!" Hiruma screeched, kicking down the locker room door with the full force of his foot. Apparently, his were too busy occupying a pocket and a flamethrower to do the job. "What the hell's taking so long!?"

In truth, it had only been two or three fractions of a minute. He just felt like pissing the… _girl_ off to see if she'd leave.

Some where farther down, he could something that sounded like strangled whining. "I'm tying my cleats!" she called back in the sweetest voice she could muster. There was nothing more she hated than being rush, especially considering how speedy of a person she already was. Hiruma was no exception, but she really didn't want him to be upset with her.

Something that tragic would surely make her cry.

"Well, fuck! Tie them outside!" the blond barked back, starting to actually get impatient.

Akire willed herself not to shout, at least not at the blond. A little longer, and she'd be able to scream at the top of her lungs at someone else… the fucking manager perhaps?

"I'm coming Hiruma-sama! Wait for me, please?"

The quarterback's eyebrows knitted in annoyance. "Fucking bitch, you're on my time! I don't give two, three, or four shits that you're not ready!"

She sighed unpleasantly. Hiruma was such a prick about some things, but she was determined to make this work. She couldn't give up now! This was just the first quarter of the long game ahead!

Even after a little inward pep talk, Akire still felt a little down. She sauntered through the doorway, where she saw the blond tapping his foot expectantly. "TA-JAN!" she sang, flinging her arms in the air in a showy style, trying to lift her spirits.

Hiruma just looked at her, completely convinced that this… _girl _is more insane that he could ever phantom. "What the hell are you wearing?" he shoved the flamethrower directly between her eyes.

She giggled. "Don't make such inane statements, Hiruma-sama!" She tried to elusively snake her way from gunpoint and tangle her arms around the demonic blond's neck, but not this time. Hiruma was sure to be more on guard around this fucking bitch. He shoved the flamethrower roughly against the… _girl's _forehead.

For some reason, Hiruma couldn't accept the fact that this thing was a female.

"Go change." He ordered gruffly.

Akire nudged the flamethrower aside, nursing the bruise that was sure to form on her sun-kissed forehead. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

Hiruma gave the fucking bitch a stupid look, clearly unamused by her defiance. "Who plays American football in a bikini and a shirt?" he inquired rhetorically. "You'll get hurt easily."

Akire's firm expression melted into one of soupy affection. Maybe the blond did give a couple of shits about what happened to her.

"Yaaaa-" she attempted to glomp the captain, but immediately smacked face-first into his flamethrower.

"Don't read into it, moron." His eyes traversed her body, disgustedly inspecting her attire once more. He was just about to scold the bitch some more about how he wasn't responsible for her safety, nor would he pay her fucking medical bill when his intent glare locked on her tanned legs. Akire noticed how quite the demonic blond had gotten while she nursed her entire face, following his eyes downward.

"… What the hell happened?" Hiruma finally broke the aging silence.

"Oh, my legs? Well, I _did _play football in _shorts and bikinis_ back home, not to mention the several fights and football scuffles I got into with my cousins." She shrugged it off as if something that was natural. "No big deal."

Hiruma was slightly impressed. Scraps, scars, bruises, scabs, you name it, she had it; the way they dotted and traced the contours of her well-toned calves and thighs… they almost looked like war wounds; _way _more malicious then those other sissy first years.

"And a skull bandana?" the blond inquired.

Akire adjusted the waistband of her red bikini, her gazed still somewhat fixed on her deathly legs. "Yup, I love skulls."

The quarterback smirked, noticing the sudden lack of zeal in her voice. "You really are a morbid person…" he trailed off. Akire brought her gaze up to his, waiting to see if he'd finish his sentiment.

Instead, the demonic captain just pivoted, exiting the locker room. "Get a move on it fucking bitch. We've wasted enough time listening to your fucking life story." He leaned his inert flamethrower over his broad chiseled shoulder.

Akire just stared at the back of Hiruma's green blazer as he abandoned her. _'Why do I try so hard for this person, his Hiruma-sama? Doest the lethal typhoons of my raging emotions hold him so dear? Aww shit…'_

Myuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnn

"Okay! So this is how it works…" Kurita bellowed happily for all with ears to hear. "You'll start here at this yellow cone…" He pointed a cubby finger to the cone beside the zero yard-line. "And run to Hiruma over there!" his gesture raised to meet his best friend who was smirking behind a bubble, one of his calloused hands occupied with the same flamethrower and the other a stopwatch. "Hiruma will time you, Yuushisami-san. Try to get there under five seconds!" the chestnut-headed lineman smiled.

Monta, Sena, Mamori, and Komusubi all stood of to the sidelines, rooting on Akire with all their energy. Whether it was out of respect of fear was really difficult to tell.

"Go Yuushisami-san!"

"Speed-MAX! Yuushisami!"

The locusts and the cicadas chirped as they hid in the dying, sienna grass, being further scorched by the sultry sun that threatened to broil the blood coursing through Akire's veins dry. Beads of salty secretion that formed along her hairline, absorbed by her obsidian skull bandana or by the bangs of her lustrous onyx locks.

She lowered her body to the ground; right knee bent with the adjacent leg extended, her hands firmly supporting her sprinter's stance against the prickly grass.

"Ready…"

She clenched the grass pent between her round fingers. She was prepared to run with all the energy she could muster, straight to Hiruma.

"GO!" there was the roar of thunderous fire whipping violently and Hiruma set off his flamethrower high above his head. The stopwatch clicked and instantaneously Akire dashed out, her first step explosive and at full speed. Expeditiously, she crossed the fist ten yards, only aware of the thumping of cleats on field, the accelerating beat of her anxious heart, and her focus point, Hiruma Youichi. She fleetingly crossed the next then yards.

"Super speed-MAX!!!"

"Run, Yuushisami-san!"

Silencing his cheers, Sena stared out to the field for a moment, slightly perplexed. This caught the eye of the boisterous fucking monkey.

"Something wrong Sena?" Monta asked his best friend, bringing Sena out of his thoughts.

"Oh… no, not really…. It's just…" he searched his brain for the right words. "… the distance seems… longer…." Monta looked back to the expansive field.

"It kinda does… sorta. Oh well!" he shrugged and continued screaming Sena's ear off with his senseless cheering.

'_Yeah, it's probably just out point of view…'_then decided to follow suit. _'Just not as…'_ he glanced at Monta and his barbaric cheering, arms flailing about madly. _'Yeah…'_

Akire could feel her breaths becoming drawn out and ragged, yet Hiruma still seemed a distance away. _'I'm not running fast enough!' _is what she concluded. She _had_ to run faster! She _needed_ to play football! She _needed_ to be acknowledged! She _needed_ to be excepted! She _needed_ Hiruma!

She poured all of her determination into the next step she took, exploding into a volcanic burst of acceleration. Her evident raving aura of perseverance gushed from her body, transmuting into crackling streams of vehement electricity, sparking around her very being. In a fragment of a moment, she reached her goal. Hiruma.

"Time!" the blond called, mashing a finger on the stopwatch. He looked down at the stopwatch, smirking unnervingly.

"4.4"

"Yuushisami-san!"

Sena's eyes widened to the size of diner plate. "That's as fast as Shin-san!"

Akire plopped to the ground around the captain's feet with a heavy _'thud'_, tuckered out, _yet_ sated. She laid in the yellowing grass, limbs splayed while dragging much needed breaths into her lungs.

"That's… the hardest… I've ever run…" she weakly raised her arms above her face and toward the setting sky. "… I'm awesome…"

Suddenly, the glaring sun that was blinding her brilliant gray orbs was eclipsed by a towering figure.

"Ke, ke, ke…"

Akire attempted to shade her eyes to better make out the figure. "Hiruma-sama? What's so-"

"KE KE KE KE KE KE KE KE!!" the quarterback's blaring demonic laughing became obnoxious and unrestrained. "_'Shin-san'? _That slow shit!? You fucking brats slay me!"

The mock secretary frowned at Hiruma, insulted by his comment towards his rival. "Hiruma-san, what are you talking about?"

Hiruma looked back at every, all of then giving him a look as if he had flown the coop. Even Kurita looked a little worried about the blond. The situation was too hysterical from Hiruma's knowing point of view. _'Is there no shaking this fucking bitch?'_

"Fucking shrimp, that was fifty yards!"

"WHAAAT!?" the whole sideline was flabbergasted. If they were well versed in American football about one thing, and one thing only, it was the fact that speed like that was humanly impossible.

Just what the hell was this _girl _made of?!

Oddly, Hiruma was still heckling himself senseless. Akire, who didn't quite understand the situation, began to feel awkward and left out. She looked up to the still maniacally guffawing quarterback.

"Hiruma-sama… did I do something… bad?"

The blond laughed even harder at her confusion, surely busting an artery or five.

"Bad!? Fucking quick shit, that was good!" he screeched, giving her a hearty kick in the ass.

She wasn't sure what the kick was for if she had apparently did so well, but she sighed with relief regardless. "The can I do the run again?"

The demonic captain looked down at the fucking bitch as if she was a few yards short of a touchdown.

"Why?" he hissed, his once cackling voice now laden with annoyance.

"Well…" she began another one of her explanations. "Usually when I time my runs, I do one with weights and one-"

"MUKII!" Monta screamed hysterically. "D-Did you just run with weights!?!"

Akire couldn't understand the reason for the fucking money's out burst. "… yeah."

If everyone could be more astounded by Akire's great feat than they were before, the definitely were now.

"H-How many kilos?"

"About fifty."

"Strong!" Komusubi proclaimed, impressed that a girl could be this powerful.

Monta jumped up and bolted over to Akire on all fours.

"How!" he frantically examined her body, lifting limbs and hairs. "Where are these weights!?!"

Silently, she lifted the hem of her white, sweat-ridden shirt, revealing a black, bulky mass. "It's my weighted vest I brought from Florida. They're ideal for football players."

Myuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun Myuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun

"What? Why is everyone looking at me funny?" Akire looked up between the blond and the monkey. "Does this mean I can't do they second run?"

Hiruma was highly impressed, to say the least. Not only had this… girl run the fifty yards in an unearthly amount of time, but _WITH_ a handicap, something even the demon himself could do.

Yuushisami Akire was truly an intriguing character.

"So… can I do the run?"

But even with this, her presence still aggravated him.

"Fuck no." Still, her speed without the weights fed on his curiosity. "After the bench test. It's getting late."

Akire nodded firmly in agreement, and they all headed inside to the clubroom's weight room.


	4. Shitty Genius

Kamen 22

Chapter 4

The fluorescent lighting emitted a monotonous drone that resonated through out the entirety of the Devil Bats' newly refurbished weight room as the group shuffled over to the pressing benches.

"Yuushi-" the raven haired female glared at the mixed breed manager, clearly seething her. Mamori coughed, clearing the imaginary whatever it was that supposedly held back her speech. "I mean _Akire_-chan?" The venomous girl continued to pierce the fucking manager's skull with _'I hate you'_ glares. Mamori gulped audibly. "H-have you ever benched before?"

Akire looked utterly insulted by the insolent mutt manager. "Of course!" _'Bitch'_ she added mentally. "How else could I measure my strength?"

There was evident tension between Akire and Mamori (one-sided, anyway), enough to spontaneously combust and set the entire clubroom, and other innocent bystander buildings, into flames. Only a moron would take the risk of speaking and aggravating the situation even more.

As if almost on cue, the fucking monkey speaks. "How many kilos was it?"

Sena visibly flinched, expecting to see his life flash before his eyes as he was caught in a massive horrific explosion.

Surprisingly (not really), there was none. No sounding of alarms; no deathly burns from singeing flames; just Akire smiling a mile a minute, laden with all the daisies and daffodils in the world. The Devil Bats were safe to live for another day.

"Last time I benched was… " Akire's head began tilting to the side, dazed in deep thought. "Mmmmmmm… can't remember…" she shrugged, finally giving up. "I could guestimate that I could bench… maybe eighty or ninety kilos now… maybe… hmmm…"

Monta didn't even care for his unanswered inquiry, just the estimation was astonishing to him. "That's more than me and Sena put together!"

"It's even more than those fucking brothers…" Hiruma commented offhandedly, not bothering to include himself in his sentiment.

Kurita's round face lit up at the realization, as if having an epiphany. "She could even be a linemen!"

"Hugo!" Komusubi grunted, flexing his muscles for emphasis.

The demonic blond frowned. He didn't like how excited these brats were getting. In fact, it'd probably make him itch. "You fucking brats are jumping the gun." He stalked towards the unawareingly gloating bitch (thoroughly annoyed, I might add), coming face to face with her, staring intently into her slate orbs with a menacing glower. "All this fucking bitch has done is talk," he roughly poked her forehead with his rawboned calloused finger. "But. She. Hasn't. Fucking. Done. A. Thing." He gritted, punctuating each pause with a stab-like poke. Akire swatted away his evil hand. Arduous pokes like that would surely leave an acute bruise in the center of her forehead.

"If you want me to show you, _stop hurting me so I can!" _she whined offensively. She looked amongst everyone and around the facility, musing to herself. "Hey _Monkey!"_ she extended her arm, point accusingly at Monta as if he just stole her bushel of bananas. The boy stared at her dumbly as if she was speaking Russian. "Get me seventy-five kilos!" she ordered.

When it finally became apparent to the tiny-brained Monta just who this girl was talking to, the fucking monkey thrashed about angrily. "Mukiiiii! Just who do ya think yur talkin' about!?!" his speech become broken and slang-ish as his anger elevated.

Akire quickly whipped out Snips-kun, prepared to behead he raging ape if need be. "Just do what I told you!"

Monta took one glance at the glinting platinum blade that mocked him as it reflected himself against its metallic surface. I'd be best for him to not be on the wrong end of that thing. "The name's Raimon Tarou." He muttered indignantly, turning away from the group and pulling Komusubi along to retrieve the demanded things.

Hiruma was violently brought out of his thoughts at the sound of a rather loud "HIRUMA-SAMA!". He turned his head to the fucking bitch, wordless giving her his attention.

"Hiruuuuuuuuummaaaaaaa! Hiruma-sama! Spot me! Spot me please!" she bubbled and giggled giddily. This just made the blond more sore about the situation, like saying _'I have the balls that you laaaaaaaaaaaaaack!!!'. _If this fucking bitch could bench more than seventy-five kilos it was going to be made apparent that this bitch _'had more balls than him'_, and he wasn't going to have that.

"Fuck no." was all he grumbled in response, replying to none of Akire's excessive grousing. His head sharply snapped to face Kurita. "Fucking fatass, you spot her. Fucking manager, be ready to record." Mamori honestly didn't want to get any closer to this deranged girl, but being manager was her job, so she apprehensively conjured up a pen a notepad into her hand. Akire eyed her the entire time as if she was trying to pull a terrorist stunt.

Monta and Komusubi had just finished fastening the locks in place on the weighted bar, giving her a thumbs up. "Ready!"

"Heeyyy…" Akire looked around confused-like. "Monkey-boy and Lawn Gnome-chan didn't bring extras?" the stout linemen 'Hugo' discontentedly, miffed about his newly given nickname.

"Extra 'what's?" Monta gritted out, trying to restrain himself before he lashed out at the girl again.

Akire got up from the wooden bench, walking around to its other side, fingering the iron circles on the weighted bar. "I can lift… " she calculated the accumulated mass of each circle. "… more than seventy-five kilos."

"Tch. Boastful bitch."

"Yeah, whatever…" and the fucking monkey and 'Lawn Gnome-chan' when to fetch more.

"Would you like to begin, Akire-chan?" the chestnut-headed linemen piped in.

"Umm… sure Big-san!" she beamed at him. Kurita sweatdropped a little at his assigned nickname, but it was _better_ than everyone's thus far (except Hiruma who had a _–sama_ attached to his surname).

"Actually, it's Kurita Ryokan, Akire-chan." He smiled back, correcting his kouhai.

"Aa, then _Kurita_-senpai it is!" she emphasized for… well, emphasis.

Kurita took his spot behind the weighted bench bar as Akire lowered her body along the bench, her obsidian locks gracelessly splayed around her firmly rested head. She reached out and grasped the slip-resistant grip of the iron bar. She propped herself, thrusting her hands higher above her head, lifting the seventy-five kilograms of deadweight effortlessly from its place on the support beams. She pumped the weight in one rep of ten without grunting or breaking a sweat. Hiruma just glared smolderingly, annoyingly popping his gum to further stress his disdain.

Akire removed herself from under the iron bar and sat up on the wooden bench. "Monkey-boy and Lawn Gnome-chan, add more weights!"

The two idle boys reluctantly fastened ten extra kilograms, figuring it easier to listen to the crazed bitch rather than end up a bloody grotesque heap of shredded organs. Akire benched that as well with no problems at all.

"Fucking mannish bitch."

Akire's ever happy-go-lucky smiling face faltered slightly. "I-I think it's alright to add five more kilos…" the traces of enthusiasm vanishing from her voice, not that anyone thought anything of it or even noticed.

… Except maybe Hiruma, but all he got was a sick pleasure from it. _'Let's… experiment…'_

Akire and Kurita retook their positions at the bench. She grasped the bar for the third time today, preparing to bench a whopping ninety kilograms. She knew she could do it, no sweat, but she felt as if she was lacking willpower.

… Especially with Hiruma's venomous glare loathing every inch of her body at that very moment…

"One…" Kurita counted aloud. The bar didn't seem much heavier that before, much to her dismay. It wasn't natural for a _girl_ to be this strong, was it?

"Two…" She pumped the iron again. Her eyes swam over to Hiruma's general direction, but still trying to evade his eyes. To no avail, their eyes locked. His scowl felt as if being skinned alive. She snapped her eyes shut.

"Three…" Even hiding in the comfort of her veiled eyes, she could still feel the horrid ambiance of the demonic blond's stare mincing her body. Her entire entity began to tremble with guilt and remorse.

_'Because Shit-chan is a genius'_

Even with the 'endearing' words of her cousin ringing in her head, she still felt like a shitty monster.

"Fo- AKIRE!" her arms violently collapsed, the weighted bar coming down as well.

In the .324 seconds it would have taken for the weight to crash down on her feeble form, it seemed as if the flow of time was disrupted, slowing to a painstakingly sluggish pace.

Oblivious of her surroundings, all she could focus on was the beat of her heart and the seething Hiruma in her mind's eye.

The weight would crush her. That sounded about right. Maybe it'd break a few bones, if not worse, and she'd be in the hospital again…

"WHAT THE HELL!? FUCKING BITCH!!!" and Akire was abruptly snapped out of her trance.

"Hiruma-sama…?" _'Saved me? That wasn't suppose to happen…' _She mused as she looked back at the demonic blond, dazed. Sweat build on his discomfort contorted face. He was clearly straining to support the weight. She had then finally put two and two together…

_'Hiruma's not as strong… as me…' _

"Fucking Fatass! You're suppose to be spotting her! Hiruma barked aggressively. "FUCKING HELP ME!!!"

The panicking Kurita fumbled to remove the overbearing weights from the captain and lay them back on the support beams. "G-g-gomen Hiruma, A-Akire-chan…."

"Akire-san! Wh-what happened!?"

The girl in question chuckled nervously. "I-I guess my arms just gave out…" She then forced another daisy-laden smile. "No big deal."

Even though the fucking manager was aware that Akire obviously didn't like her, she could help but let her motherly instincts overtake her as she rushed to her aid.

"Of course it's a big deal! You could have been seriously injured!" She examined her arms for signs of muscle strain.

"Aa… I said I'm fine." was her witty retort as she coyly looked over to Hiruma. All she could see was the back of his green blazer, fisted hands occupying vacant pockets.

_'He's obviously disgusted with me…'_

"Either way, I'm recording your limit as eighty-five kilos." The fucking manager scribbled on her notepad.

"Alright…"

Sena looked a little concerned for his possible new teammate, even though she _did_ call him a _'brown-haired simpleton'_. "Yuushi-" The girl cut him a morbid glare, despite her immense depression. _'Hiiiiiiie!!'_ he inwardly shrieked, barely able to keep his fright from his express. _'If looks could kill!'_ But he trusted she wouldn't harm him… too much if not at all….

_'Oh well, here goes… something.' _"Akire-san, something the matter?" It would seem unusual if the secretary didn't care about the well-being of the players.

"Not really… umm… name?"

'_She forgot about the whole 'brown-haired simpleton' bit?'_ he thought, thinking it best not to remind her. "Kobayakawa Sena; Secretary."

"I'm fine Sena, just feeling a bit…" she laid one of her idle hair atop he black mopped head as if it would fit from her shoulders and float away. "… lightheaded."

In actuality, Sena stopped listening after she said his name, contemplating whether or name his last name was that long or were people really to lazy to say it all.

"We'll you did sweat a lot, Akire-chan." The mixed breed manager commented. "Perhaps some water?"

"No thanks." She refused the offer in a tone much too soft than she would have preferred to use with the fucking manager. "I'll go ahead and head home. Grandma's probably worried and I'd like to sharpen Snips-kun." She lied a very believable lie to most.

… Except maybe a very perceptive genius.

But this is exactly what that perceptive genius wanted. No way in hell was he about to stop her… maybe… not completely sure….

Kurita looked upset. "B-but what about the rest of your physical? You need one to-"

"Shut up fatass." The room's occupants collectively stared at the blond.

"But Hiruma!"

"Quit whining and think for a bit." The Quarterback started. "How would it look if a bunch of _guys _gave… that _thing _that claims to be a _girl _a physical." He inquired rhetorically. Either way, no one in their left or right mind would think to question Hiruma.

"But what about Mamori-nee."

The fucking manager flinched in response, wishing Sena hadn't made such an offer. Hopefully the blond would refuse…

And suddenly, the demonic captain laughed. "That's no girl. The fucking manager is just another homorphidike that oozes female pheromones, like the fucking bitch."

"Excuse me!?!" Mamori raged. Sure she was glad the idea was shot down, but he could have done it in a not so condescending manner! She was then armed with another innocent cleaning tool gone weapon of mass destruction.

"Go home. That goes for everyone." The demonic blond smirked. "I plan to kill you all in practice tomorrow morning."

The chestnut-headed linemen smiled. "Hiruma seems to be in a good mood."

"Good!?"

"Fucking fatass, don't go making fail attempts to read me. I said kill."

The Devil Bat chibi trio paled, wasting no time retiring to their respective homes. They didn't want to attempt to read Hiruma and turn out right.

"Well, I guess I should be going too." Kurita started. "Komusubi and I have early morning training!" and the jolly giant linemen skipped off to join his apprentice.

Mamori snapped to attention when she heard the scuffling of rubber-soled shoes threatening to abandon her in the weight room.

"And where are you going?" she demanded from the blond.

"Apparently away from you, fucking manager." Was his vague reply. The direction he was headed could only lead to the locker room, and if anyone was in there, it would be Akire-chan changing.

For some unknown reason, this made Mamori's blood boil.

"LEAVE HER ALONE!" she spontaneously roared, startling even Hiruma. His hands were firmly stuffed in his pockets as the back of his green school blazer still faced the feminist manager.

"What are you talking about, moron?"

"Stop hurting Akire-chan!" She yelled. She couldn't figure what possessed her to spew such words. For God's sake, that insane girl was hurting her (mentally, of course)!

The demonic blond chuckled quietly to himself. "Do I not have a locker?" and he continued walking. "Stop sticking your nose into my life. I don't want your fucking attention…" and he disappeared beyond the doorway. "I'm sure someone else is craving it." He commented as his voice began to drift as he made reference to that monkey spaz Monta, not that the air-headed, short-tempered manager would have realized it.

"Huh?" was the last _'intelligent'_ thing the captain heard spill from the manager's mouth before he was out of ear range.

**Author's Comment: Hi people! Sorry for the late update. School's been keeping me busy and crap, so I didn't update last week. (The only reason I updated so frequently was because of Thanksgiving break)**

**Anyway, it's been brought to my attention that Akire seems like a "Marry Sue", if you will…**

**I DIDN'T MEAN TO! IT'S NOT MY FAULT! IT WAS HIM!!! (points to a wall)**

**Akire's horrid cheery disposition is based on my "do-anything happy" highs that I get. No, I'm not on crack, so don't think that! (They're all lies!)**

**Please don't let this get in the way of you enjoying the story. It gets better, I swear!**


	5. Promotion!

Kamen 22

By: Eriob34

Chapter 5

After finally escaping the unwanted company of that fucking manager, Hiruma was met by another sound, one way more hideous than that of Mamori. Surely this shrill sound would damage his acute hearing, so the blond keep quite, keeping his distance as he tried to find the source of what sounded like a train wreck.

He peered deftly from behind the obscurity of a row of lockers, whipping out his handy-dandy digital camera incase there was prime opportunity for blackmailing.

The demonic blond leaned around the corner further, his eyes meeting the source of the heaven-burying**(1)** ruckus.

_'This fucking bitch even annoys me when she's by herself'_

Apparently, Akire was trying to drown out her evident sorrows by blaring obscene rock music that overflowed into her ears and flooded out into the room… along with her… _'distinguished' singing._ Not only did her _'singing'_, as one might call it, sound like a demon's claws on a chalkboard, she was also wiggling around in a somewhat graceful manner; a dance of some sorts.

Of course Hiruma flashed a few pics, although even with the constant flickering of the camera's bulb, she still wasn't made aware of his presence or she didn't care because she was too lost in the music. The blond figured he should dismiss himself quietly to avoid unnecessary confrontation with the fucking bitch.

"Hiruma-sama?"

Or at least that was his original intention.

Oh well. Being caught red-handed with possible blackmail information was the least of his problems. Usually, he would make it painfully obvious to his victims that he was gathering information on the skeletons in their closets, feeding happily off the agony it brought to them. Being sneaky about it really wasn't his style…

"What, fucking bitch?" He demanded.

Akire lifted a set of jumbo-sided skull embroidered headphones off her head in favor of slipping the neckhole of a red tall-tee around her midnight locks to further clothe her body. "What are you doing in here?" her voice, as loud as ever, echoed off the walls with a ting of befuddlement.

Hiruma's partially chapped lips cracked into a slightly unsettling grin. He held up the tiny sliver of silver digital camera for Akire to gaze upon with her ashen eyes. "Gathering blackmail information…"

Akire cocked her noggin to the side, even further confused. "On me?"

Hiruma giggled eerily. "Tee-hee. No shit Sherlock."

The fucking bitch just sniggered, trying to restrain a full-blown bellow. "Try as you might, dearest Hiruma, for you are dealing with a demon child with no shame."

The captain frowned, displeased with Akire's lack of frantic reaction. "There's no getting rid of you, is there fucking bitch?"

"I guess not, Hiruma-sama."

'_Fuck, what the hell am I about to say…' _ Hiruma mulled over all the possible out comes of the situation based on the verbal wording of his thoughts.

Hiruma smirked, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he stalked over to Akire. With each powerful step the blond took, she stumbled back, clutching her hands to her boyish chest.

Akire didn't like where this predicament was escalating to, groping her body only to realized Snips-kun wasn't on her person, which meant no protection from the devilish quarterback, no matter what he would do to her.

And even more unfortunate for the first year, she was trapped in the cubicle of the Devil Bats' locker room. As she tried to distance her self from the blond, she felt the junction of lockers press against her taut back as she back-peddled into… a corner? Crap. That's not good.

The span of time it took Hiruma to shadow over Akire and box her in that little corner was relatively short, but it dragged on agonizingly slow. Hiruma was able to control everything around him. Time was probably no exception.

But that's not the point! The demonic blond was there, towering over her (or at least it felt like it) menacingly. His eyes were transfixing through her skull as a cloying grin curved his lips. Her eyes scanned his face for any signs that could possible tell what he was scheming, but such effort were forlorn, for there were none. Escaping was futile, and she could never phantom using force against Hiruma unless absolutely dire. Instead, she braced herself for what every the captain would barrage her with.

"You like me, don't you fucking bitch?" Hiruma grunted brusquely.

'_Ohhh… wasn't expecting that…' _she blushed at the bluntness, but other than that, did not falter. _'Maybe I do? Hmmm…' _

"What of it, Hiruma-sama?" she replied his interrogation with another. She wasn't completely sure of her emotions, but seeing where the demonic blond was going with this seemed kind of important.

The captain gritted his teeth. "My team's not going to suffer just 'cause some fanbitch wants to get in my pants." He growled. Akire blushed even more profusely in response.

"I-I don't plan to H-Hiruma-sama." Her voice quivered as she began to lose nerve.

"Then you're going to follow my exact orders."

Akire eyes widened to the sized of full-moons. Was Hiruma saying what she though he was saying?

"I'll do anything!"

The blond backed up a bit to allow he girl to breathe and to get a better view of her wholly. "Then, congratulations."

"Eh?"

Hiruma did all he could to restrain the laughter in his voice. "You've just been promoted to _'fucking shonen'_."

"EH!?" Akire shrieked. "I'm no boy!"

The quarterback jabbed a calloused finger into the now deemed _'fucking shonen'_'s face. "From now on, you'll be known as Yuushisami Akira, a _male_ student. You'll will be attending the school under these circumstances, understand?"

"EHHHH!? Don't I get a say in this!?" Akire flailed helplessly. What the heck was going on!?

"Ha, no." the demonic blond sneered. "Be back here Monday morning, six a.m. sharp. I'll take care of your uniform, transcripts, and other school-related stuff." Hiruma turned his back on the fucking shonen and laughed himself senselessly.

Akire's already weakened knees completely gave out on her as she sank quietly to the cold, tiled floor.

'_What did I just get myself into?' _

**Author's Comments: Hi again. Well here's chapter five! Quite honestly, chapters 1-5 were suppose to be one chapter, but I wanted to hurry and post it, so I broke it down.**

**(1) You know how people say 'hell-raising', well I wanted to say something that wasn't so trite but meant the same thing! So heaven-burying it is!**


	6. The Devil’s Hair

Kamen 22

By: Eriob34-san

Chapter 6

The Devil's Hair (Oh! Look at that! It's a FILLER!)

Upon first meeting the 'Devil', as some would call him, Akire was amazed, bemused, and utterly intrigued with his hair; so sunny and florescent, so angular and intricate, so confound, yet profound. It was the epitome of the highest echelon of perfection, practically radiating its own light, and Akire absolutely loved it.

On another one of those lackluster, mirthless Saturdays the ebony-haired girl experienced ever-so-often, Akire decided it was the best chance to get to the bottom of the infinitely perplexing conundrum of the Quarterback's sunshine locks; so she opted for wandering away from her house, without a moments notice, and waltzed on over to the Devil Bats' Clubroom.

-----

Contrary, or in agreement, to popular belief, outside school, football, gambling on occasion, and entertaining himself by making his slaves dance to his whim, Hiruma has no life. That, however, didn't mean he wasn't a busy man.

Unsurprisingly, the captain was perched behind his laptop, typing away as he sat at the Pool slash Meeting table.

At the sound of the jarring door, Hiruma immediately perked up, his eyes glaring over the horizon of his laptop and at the noise's source, yet his typing did not cease.

"What are you doing here, Fucking Bitc-… Shonen?" Hiruma demanded, completely annoyed with the sudden intrusion.

Although not satisfied with Hiruma's dictation in addressing her, Akire took that as her cue to enter, kicking off her shoes and leaving them by the door. "Hello Hiruma-sama."

"A greeting doesn't answer my fucking question, Fucking Shonen." he grunted bitterly, implying that she'd better answer the question properly this time, or else.

Instead, Akire simply ignored the apparently disgruntled blond, which pissed him off even more, and crawled atop of the Pool slash Meeting table to get a better look at the Quarterback's summer-haze hair.

Hiruma gave the wayward girl a simple quirk of a brow at her peculiar gesture, then decided to think nothing of it. She wasn't doing anything, plus she had no shoes on, so there's no damage done to the table, although it has seen way worse that scuff marks. No problems as far as he was concerned, which was probably as far as two millimeters. He went back to altering the manuscript of Akire school records on his laptop, but not before shooting her one more glance.

_'Not much to expect from this Fucking Shonen…' _

It was somewhere around a mere seven minutes later when Hiruma was disturbed once more, this time by some weird strangled whimpering noises coming from the Fucking Shonen before him. He peered over his laptop again.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Akire's brow was creased and her face was scrunched up in labored thinking. "Hmmm… I can't figure it out…" she whined, legibly miffed over her lack of understanding.

Hiruma's keen eyes sharpened dangerously. "Can't figure what out?"

Akire crawled a bit closer to the Captain, her little curious arm wandering out in innocent observation as she reached for a spike of Hiruma's crisp blond hair. "Your hair…" she murmured, still transfixed on that godly blond mass of wonder mounted on top of his head.

Hiruma saw this and preferred not to be touched by the Fucking Shonen as he wheeled himself out of her reach with the help of his dandy office chair.

Still fixated on attaining a feel of that majestically blond hair, Akire nearly fell of the edge of the table, but saved herself in the nick of time, thanks to her dexterity and unnaturally fast reflexes.

"Waa… Hiruma-sama…" she waved her are uselessly once the blond was completely out of reach. "Don't roll away…"

"I'd rather not have you touch me." Hiruma scoffed. "Besides, what's there not to understand about my hair? _It's fucking hair._"

Akire smiled lazily, dazed and completely trained on Hiruma's golden crown. "… It's your hair. It's surreal, like catching an fatal explosion in its apex of artistic allure… wild and beautiful…" she sighed happily. "… And it astounds me."

Hiruma inwardly cackled at the Fucking Shonen for being so overly analytical of his hair.

Akire made a distressed whimper. "The only part I don't understand is how you get it like that! It's too perfectly perfect!"

Now the Quarterback was inwardly doubled over in pain from laughing his brains out. He wheeled himself back to the table, drawing his face close to hers.

"You really want to know why it's so _'perfectly perfect'_, Fucking Shonen?"

Akire nodded vigorously in response, stress how much she wanted to know.

Hiruma yanked her ear and brought it down to his face. "Well, you see…" he whispered, sniggering lightly behind it. "I've been through chemotherapy…" he paused a minute as Akire let out an obnoxiously loud gasp. "… and this-" he pointed to his hair for emphasis. "-is a wig…" he sighed, releasing her ear.

Akire's silver orbs stared back wide-eyed at the blond's cold, beady ones in a horrified shock. "I'm-I'M SORRY I ASKED!!!" she squeaked, worried she offended him, and maybe opened old wounds. "I- I didn't know! Honestly!"

Hiruma shrugged as if it were no big deal, because it really wasn't. _'…Ke, ke, ke… she's a moronic Fucking Shonen. There's nothing to expect from her…'_

After a thousand apologies and a few shed tears, Akire properly dismissed herself, wishing for Hiruma to have a splendid afternoon.

And unknown to Akire, the birds mocked her from the safety of the trees as she dernfully mulled over Hiruma's words as she wandered back to her abode.


	7. Just Another Day in the Life of a Boy

Kamen 22

By: Eriob34

Chapter 7

There was the causal chatter of socializing students steadily rising in volume in an attempt to hear over one another as they lounged around in wait for their peculiarly tardy Sensei. Normally, their Sensei was up and bouncing around the English classroom; papers flying around in his wake and fast-paced scribbling of barely coherent fragmented thoughts as he bounded around the room while is little 'ADD Awareness' coffee mug sat equally perkily atop mused grade paper.

With the absence of the infamous coffee that acted a daily reminder to the students of their hyperactive Sensei's presence and his… '_condition_', some wondered, but most were completely sated with it missing.

"Hey, Monta-kun." Sena nudged the bushy-browed boy next to him who was preoccupied having a mid-morning snack. "Where do you think Shigure-sensei is?"

The monkey boy outright laughed at the first thought that treaded his mind, nearly choking his seemingly harmless banana-nut muffin. "Mukii!! That crazy Euro-guy probably saw a butterfly and jumped out the window to catch it!" he laughed harder, banging his other empty fist barbarically on the desk.

The brown-haired boy sighed at his friend. "Monta-kun… It's not polite to make fun of Shigure-sensei's… _disorder_…." He commented… but with their sensei, nothing's impossible. Sena ran to glance out of the neared window for safe measure after receiving another earful of the monkey's gwaffing due to Sena's meticulous choice of words.

Upon returning to Monta's side after confirming the absence of a blond-haired bloody corpse, the monkey boy was thoroughly punished once more when he choked on another, yet larger, chunk of the banana pastry.

After an episode of hacking and coughing, and a few shrieks of "_Mukii!_" Monta managed to dislodge the pastry from his esophagus.

"Monta-kun, I think that muffin's got it in for you."

"Mukii! You're right!" Monta gasped in utter shock that one of his favorite banana-based snacks would betray. He spat out the remnants of the muffin from his mouth and attempted to throw now dubbed _"Evil" _muffin in the safest place were it could no longer be a threat to human-(or monkey)-kind.

Of course the muffin wasn't done teaching the boy a lesson yet, so when Monta aimed for the nearest open window, the pastry miraculously somersaulted, then spun into a triple-flip and performed other various acrobatic feats before soaring straight for the next person that would come leaping into the classroom like a prima ballerina…

"Ha, HA! Do you think I'll let you scathe my beautiful skin, _fiendish pastry_!?"

… And who else would ever think to make such an entrance into their place of work other than their ever eccentric sensei?

"Mukii!?" Monta screeched over the fact that the wretched muffin was still in the vicinity to reek havoc upon the innocents.

The monkey boy's primal cry caught the attention of every living, not all necessarily human, beings in the room as eyes locked to catch the '_acrobatically gifted' _pastry hurdling towards their ever-flamboyant Sensei.

Shigure-sensei turned to his faction of students to see what the uproar was about (mostly because it was ruining the mood for his eloquent, gravity defying leap that he _'strived'_ so hard to perfect), when he saw the possessed banana-nut pastry making an unnaturally curvy beeline for him.

"Ha, _HA_! Nice moves Monsieur Muffin, but to out do moi!? YOU SIMPLY CANNOT!!" he quipped at his 'challenger', thrusting a slacks-clad leg off the white board that was to his right, successfully gaining enough momentum and rotate into a triple axel. He daintily made his descent and landed next to his wooden office desk as the muffin smashed into the board with a loud _'thunk!_', smearing as it slide down the board and off into a conveniently located waste receptacle in utter defeat.

Monta, who had jumped on his desk during his maddened panic attack, fell back into his seat, relieved.

"Good to have avoided another disaster-_**MAX!**_" Monta sighed, trying to calm his still somewhat jittery nerves.

"Yup." Sena smiled back. "At least it wasn't as bad as when you accidentally threw your snotty tissue into Sensei's coffee mug…"

Now, that was truly a train wreck of a lifetime (because Shigure-sensei almost pressed Monta with charges for 'tampering with his food' and making him bed-ridden for a week), not to mention that damned dandy little mug was there every day to haunt him of his blunder… how smug that little mug was…

Monta _REALLY_ needs to stop throwing things in class… or _ever_ for that matter…

"Good Morning everyone!" the chipper Shigure-sensei greeted. In response, the class reciprocated the gesture… just not as… _perkily_…

"Okay! Before we get stared…" his gleaming face precipitantly grimaced. "Who thought it was funny to make Monsieur Muffin airborne!?"

Monta stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair. "In my offense, I was trying to save humankind from that evil… th-THING!"

To articulate his misworded statement, he jutted an accusatory finger at the trash bin. "I should be a hero- _**MAX!**_"

Shigure-sensei glared at the flustered monkey spaz.

"Of course it was the finesse-less Monta…" the overly exuberant sensei pouted, flipping part of his blond unibang out of his eyes to give said boy the full intent of his leer. He crossed his slender arms over his chest indignantly. "You do realize that this will cost you an afternoon in detention, ne?"

The primal boy looked as if he were about to lose "it", whatever it was he had to lose (other than what remained of his dignity). Sena jumped up, trying to evade further altercations.

"B-But Shigure-sensei! The muffin didn't even hit you!"

The European sensei lifted his nose in the air, disgustedly. "Dull-witted Monsieur Muffin tried to out do me and ruined _MY_ moment! Besides…" He turned back to Monta, sticking out his tongue snidely. "_I am the sensei, therefore I'm better than you! DENTENTION!_"

"WHAT!?" the two boys shrieked in complete shock, Monta 'screetching' more than 'shrieking'.

This, of course, earned them a bout of giggles from their less-than-empathetic classmates.

"What's wrong Kawa-kun?" sensei inquired, directing his inquiry at Sena. "I did not punish you since you were not at fault. Is that wrong?"

"N-No… I mean, I just don't think it's… _fair_."

Shigure-sensei smirked triumphantly, gracing his class with another ceremonious flip of his cascading golden locks. "Then fret not Kawa-kun! Life in its essence is not fair! Be grateful not to be enmeshed in its injustices!"

Monta exhaustedly collapsed back into his seat, thoroughly convinced that this was another 'lose-lose' predicament that he tangled himself in… even if Shigure-sensei practically contradicted himself.

"Anyway, class!" the blond-haired sensei chirped once more. "Before I was ever-so rudely interrupted by the finess-less one over there…" he tipped his head disgustedly in the direction of said monkey boy. "… I have a very important announcement to make!"

Both Monta and Sena perked up slightly from their slump, generally curious about the afformentioned 'important announcement' sensei proclaimed to be so important.

"I'm terribly sorry to have made you wait EONS outside the door… BUT IT WAS ALL HIS FAULT!" Shigure-sensei pointed viciously at the cause of the delay. Monta didn't even attempt to fight it this time. He figure the less he talked, the less that Euro-guy would bother him.

"So, if you would so kindly enter and make yourself known before the class…"

Appearently, from what this person had viewed from the scene that played out before his eye…

… He thought the whole class was crazy. So, the black-haired youth stood there with somewhat frightful eyes, staring at his deranged teacher-to-be.

Shigure-sensei was slightly concerned when his new, cute little student was hesitant to make himself present to the class.

"Hm? Aka-chan? Won't you come in, _s'il vous plaît_?" he smiled in a way that seemed warm and inviting to the innocent eye, but to those who knew better… "The students… they do not bite…" … Such a smile could come off as lecherous.

"Ewwww… That Euro-guy's flirting with students again…" Monta grimaced.

Sena blushed slightly, remembering similar situations with himself and the Sensei. "What if it's a _boy_?"

"Well… then that makes him a gay Euro-man." Monta snickered quietly. "Gay man from Gay Paris! It fits perfect!"

After a moment or two, the person Shigure-sensei was beckoning to from beyond the door finally stepped in, standing a little short compared to Sensei.

"Class!" Shigure-sensei called to his students for their attention. "A new student we have! Aka-chan, better known as Yuushisami Akira, will be joining our class starting today!"

"Yuushisami!?" Monta whispered, hoping to not draw attention to himself. "Why is _she _in our classes!?"

Sena continued to stare at the male student standing at the front of the class with a questioning look. "More importantly, why is she in a boy's uniform…?"

Monta blinked in realization. "Hey! You're right!"

Not really caring whether or not Shigure-sensei would yell at him for this, Monta got up and called out to the front of the room. "Oi! Yuushisami-san! Why are you in a boy's uniform?"

Sena slapped a hand over his face, sighing in slight annoyance.

Shigure-sensei was about to make smart retort to the monkey boy's question, but Akira beat him to it.

"Because Akira is Akira, and Akira is a boy, Baka Saru!"


End file.
